


The Change of Time

by WritersKitten



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, Time - Freeform, Weakness, Wounded, Wounds, change, weak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 02:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2797016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritersKitten/pseuds/WritersKitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Norway was always the strongest of all of them, the most patient, the best hunter, the one who would laugh at stupid jokes just to make them feel good. Whenever one of them were hurt, he would take care of them. Then, in 1349, everything changed...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Change of Time

**Author's Note:**

> Melancholy suddenly hit me, and I had to get this drabble out of my system. I think it turned out rather well, and might - if someone would read it - turn this into something longer and more exciting.  
> It was not intended to be DenNor, but if you want to view it that way, feel free to do so.
> 
> Hetalia (c) Himaruya Hidekaz

_Sometime early in the Viking Age…_

Nóregr trudged through the forest. Every step was heavy in the deep snow, yet there was a bounce in his steps people never understood where came from. It was a cold day, and the day of least light in the year. In between the trees it was already dark, but at the horizon it was possible to see a little light still.

The young nation came to a halt as he reached the edge of the forest. Before him lay an often used field. He knew the Ancient Ones had used it occasionally to settle arguments amongst themselves, and now his brethren used it. The snow had been stamped to something that could equal ice, and in the middle lay a heap of blood, cloth and _nation_.

Nóregr sighed and set off again. He moved across the icy ground, not losing his footing even once, and crouched down when he reached the heap. Carefully he turned it – or rather _him_ – over on the back. A known face, caked in blood and snow that was slowly freezing, faced him. Breath came in ragged gasps, and the eyes were tightly shut.

“Hold on”, Nóregr whispered as he gathered his closest friend and brother into his arms, lifting him up as though he weighed nothing more than the feather of an eagle, despite the difference in size.

And he trudged back the same path he had taken there. Soon enough a small house came into view. It was silent and abandoned, but when Nóregr pushed up the door, life flickered into the glowing coal and the fireplace at the middle of the floor blazed to life. Carefully he placed the other at the floor, before getting all of his pelts. He made a comfortable, soft bed close to the fire, then moved his friend to lay on it. He brought a bucket of water and some torn cloth, and began the slow task of cleaning up the friend.

After many long minutes of silence, only broken by the crackling of fire, Nóregr had identified the worst wound, cleaned it and patched it up, and bandaged it. The face of his patient was clean, and the torn, blood stained woollen tunic was removed. Nóregr brought some of his cloaks to cover the friend up, before settling to watch the peaceful face.

“N…ór?”

“Shh”, Nóregr replied.

“Where…?”

“At my place. Now, go back to sleep, Denmǫrk.” He moved so he could run a hand through Denmǫrk’s tangled hair. It had always soothed the other, and this time it was no difference.

Denmǫrk let out a hoarse laugh. “You’re always here when I need you, _bror_.”

Nóregr smiled subtly, continuously running his hand through Denmǫrk’s hair. “I’ll always be here”, he replied softly. “I’ll always help and support you. That’s what siblings do.”

 

_The end of 1354…_

Norway cracked his eyes open. The bedroom was cold, yet he was sweating. His gaze swept across the room. The door had been left ajar, and the chair standing beside the bed was abandoned. The only ‘living’ thing in the room, except himself, was the fire in the hearth.

He breathed out and a violent shiver ran through him. His eyes slid shut for a few moments. They, however, flew open a few seconds earlier, as the sound of footsteps reached his ears. He waited in silence, and then the owner of the house entered. Somehow, he managed a weak smile and a faint whisper. “Denmark…”

Denmark hurried to reclaim his seat, and scooted closer to the bed. Gently he clasped Norway’s hand in one of his, running his other hand through Norway’s hair. There were dark circles under Denmark’s eyes, and he was obviously tired. Yet he smiled as though his birthday had arrived, and the whole family was benched around a table to celebrate.

“How do you feel?” Denmark asked.

“Cold.”

A gentle frown caressed Denmark’s brows as he rested his hand against Norway’s forehead. “You have a slight fever”, he then decided. “But it’s much better than it has been for some while.”

“How…” Norway had to swallow and start again. “How long?”

Denmark’s smile did not return. “Five years.”

Norway let out a breath he did not realize he had been holding. His eyes slid shut as he sank even deeper into the pelts, pillows and duvets. Then he opened his eyes again and turned his attention fully to Denmark. “You have grown.”

Denmark appeared confused for a moment, then smiled. “You have not.”

Norway managed a crooked smile. “And you look stronger. I bet you’ll be able to carry me as easily as I used to carry you.”

“Why are you talking about it as though it is something long gone?”

The smile disappeared. “I feel… weaker.” A horrible though appeared. “Den, I don’t think I’ll be able to go hunting with you anymore.”

“Of course you will!” Both of Denmark’s hands were now holding his hand tightly. “You’ll soon be healed, and then we’ll take some days off to catch up on all the good hunting days we have missed out on. Just you and I.”

Norway shook his head. “Too many people died, Den, in whatever sickness hit. I’m too weak.” His eyes slid shut. His throat was burning with emotions. He would really miss not being able to go hunting. His eyes burned with tears, and he let them fall. A few moments later, the mattress shifted and Denmark’s arms wrapped around him. The warmth was much appreciated in the cold room. Norway curled up against the now so much taller man, weeping soundlessly. 


End file.
